There Are No Scooby Snacks in the Real World
by Jose Cohen
Summary: When a New Year party goes bad, the gang investigates with the help of two crimefighters in sunglasses and overcoats. A crossover straight out of the rabbit hole! Rated T for mild violence and milder innuendo. Now typo-free - hopefully.
1. Chapter 1: Dusk

_Disclaimer: Scooby-Doo, The Matrix, and all associated characters, names, and concepts are the property of their respective copyright holders. Not me._

In a nondescript corner of America, the nondescript Mega City spread across countless acres, its nondescript skyscrapers towering like concrete fingers reaching for the sky. Its wide streets and freeways were alive with traffic, streams of nondescript cars bearing nondescript people to their nondescript jobs and their nondescript houses. The sun was shining and the wind whirled through the office towers, and in the lanes below an unusually distinctive van picked its way through traffic.

Its entire surface was a wash of psychedelic colors, a green and purple and pink assault on the senses. On the one side, someone had painted "Mystery Machine" in large bubbly letters. In and hanging over the front seat, four cheerful-looking teens and a gangly Great Dane peered through the windshield at the mountainous buildings and the storm of traffic.

"I still can't believe Mary Sue got us tickets to Club Hel's new year party!" exclaimed Daphne, a tall redhead in a sweater dress and green scarf.

"Me either," replied the driver, a blonde man in a white sweater and bellbottom jeans. "It's the best and most exclusive roller disco in this state!"

"Like, you almost forgot, Freddy!" The speaker, a thin man with scruffy hair and beard stubble, leaned over the front seat as he interjected, "You almost forgot about the authentic French food!" The dog bounced up and down in the back seat, licking his lips excitedly.

"French food at a roller disco?" Velma wiped her glasses on her sweater. "Now I've heard everything!"

"Here we are," said Fred, pulling the van into an underground parking lot. "Everybody got their tickets?"

It was still light out, but the parking lot was already almost full. The walls were bare, with a whitewash that was slightly soot-stained and chipping in places, and the parking lot's columns cast long shadows across the floor. At the bottom of the stairs, the group found themselves at the end of a long line waiting for entry. At the front of the line was an elevator with dented metal doors. Three club workers stood before the elevator, checking tickets.

Shaggy exclaimed, "I can't wait! This is gonna be more fun than Mardi Gras!" Scooby lashed his tail and barked his assent.

"Patience, you two!" Daphne joked.

The doors were guarded by a tall, imposing man, his head clean-shaven and his eyes hidden behind a pair of stylish sunglasses. "Five tickets?" he counted, his voice deep and gravelly. "No problem. Enjoy your visit to Club Hel." He ushered them into the elevator along with a few others, and the now-packed box headed for the bottom floor.

"Isn't this awfully far down for a roller disco?" There was a slight hint of nervousness in Shaggy's voice.

"It's just their gimmick," Fred explained. "When they call themselves an underground club, they mean it."

"It's not like it's some dark, spooky cave anyway," Velma added.

But the coat check room was a mostly-blank space, its high ceiling checkerboarded with fluorescent lights that were somewhat dimmer than necessary, and the effect was rather like a cave. More club employees in either dark suits or eclectic mismatched clothes buzzed around, collecting coats and handing out numbers on squares of paper, but shied away from the gang when they realized none of them were wearing a coat. They maneuvered through the throng towards the entrance to the nightclub. As Fred pushed the double doors open, Shaggy and Scooby jostled two people standing in the shadows next to the check counter.

The teen and the dog stopped and eyed the pair cautiously. They were a man and a woman, both very tall, both with short hair slicked back close to their heads. They wore black from head to toe, she in tight leather and he in functional cotton, and both had long, billowing black overcoats that reached to their knees. The woman was talking on a cell phone, and paused to eye Shaggy and Scooby equally cautiously.

"Like, sorry!" Shaggy smiled apologetically.

"Yeah, sorry!" Scooby wagged his tail invitingly.

The tall man adjusted his square-rimmed sunglasses impassively. "Don't worry about it."

"Come on, you two!" Velma called them from inside the club. "You're missing the roller disco!" They turned and scurried after her.

The man and woman in black exchanged puzzled glances. "Maybe it's just this place and its weird code," she said, "but I could have sworn that dog just talked to us."

"Surely not!" he said.

"Talking dogs?" the voice on the other end of her phone said. "Are you two feeling okay? Do you want me to pull you out now?"

"No, Tank, we're fine," she replied. "We'll let you know what we find."

"Good luck, Trinity." She hung up, and they merged with the stream of people entering the club.

"Are you _really_ sure that dog wasn't talking to us?" Trinity asked.

"Well . . ." Neo paused, scanning the tables, the people skating around the dance floor, and the spinning mirror ball. "That just wouldn't make any sense."

"Because all this," and she gestured at the people skating around the dance floor and the spinning mirror ball, "makes so much sense?"

"Good point, Trin."


	2. Chapter 2: Midnight

Half an hour from midnight, Club Hel was alive with music, merriment, and stylishly-dressed people on roller skates. They swirled like a meteor shower around a massive mirror ball hanging, higher than it looked, above the middle of the dance floor. The band was in the middle of a lively disco tune, and at a nearby table Shaggy and Scooby were attacking their twelfth serving of garlic bread.

"This is great, Scoob! A guy could get used to this!"

"Yeah!" Scooby-Doo's reply was muffled by about half a loaf.

They barely looked up as Fred and Mary Sue hurtled off the dance floor and into two empty chairs, laughing uproariously. "I didn't know you could skate, Freddy!"

"I've been skating every day after school for years, Mary Sue." He started untying the laces on his roller skates. "Hey, Shaggy, Scooby, where are the girls?"

"Like," Shaggy mumbled, "they're still skating."

"Well, they'd better get back before the countdown starts!" Fred exclaimed. "It's only 1976 once!"

"Oh, I'm sure they'll be here." Mary Sue pulled her skates off and took a piece of the garlic bread. "If you guys like this place, just wait until my father's club on 43rd Street re-opens. My parents are in Long Island until next year, so I'm going to be the general manager!" She reached into her purse and came back with a large red key, which she waved at the others.

"Congratulations!" said Fred.

Just as he got his skates off, he noticed a middle-aged man in a leather jacket skating directly towards them. Belatedly, Fred realized that the reason for this was that Daphne was next to him on one side and Velma on the other, arms linked with his.

"Oh, my!" he laughed in a mild French accent. "Thank you, ladies. I fear I never quite got the hang of these crazy wheeled shoes!"

"Fred, Shaggy, Scooby," Velma said, "Mary Sue, this is Mr. Wilson."

"He's the owner of Club Hel!" Daphne added.

"How are you?" Mr. Wilson asked. "Having fun? Everything to your liking?"

"Like, totally!" Shaggy managed to interject between bites.

"Yeah!" Scooby added.

"It really is a lovely party, Mr. Wilson," Velma said.

He smiled warmly. "Good, good. Such fine young ladies . . . and gentlemen, are always welcome here! Now, enjoy yourselves. And make sure to have your New Year's resolutions handy. It will be 1976 before you know it!" Not bothering to take his skates off, he shuffled uneasily towards the stairs to the upper floor.

"Well," said Fred, "you guys look like you had fun."

"Yeah," Daphne replied. "It's a little crowded out there, though."

Velma maneuvered towards a chair on the far side of the table and sat down. "Hey, Mary Sue, what's with the key?" She glanced over her shoulder briefly as a man and woman in long black overcoats and sunglasses brushed past her.

"The club is reopening next month," she repeated. "And you're looking at the new general manager!"

"Wow!" said Daphne.

"Your life really will be a non-stop party now," Velma added.

"_Ladies and gentlemen,"_ the band leader spoke into his microphone. _"There's only fifteen minutes left in 1975, so you'd all better enjoy them! This next song is for Little Oprah, from Skittles . . ."_

There were only a few tables on Club Hel's upper level, but a lot of people who were too cool, too important, or too bad at skating to be downstairs. It was darker up there, as the spotlights and the mirror ball only reached the area indirectly, and the shadows on the wall were almost as dark as Neo and Trinity's coats.

"Something is very wrong here," said Neo.

"You don't have to tell me," Trinity muttered.

The people who were too cool, too important, or too bad at skating parted instinctively as they approached, and they marched unchallenged to the largest table in the upper level. At the main place set there, a middle-aged man in a leather jacket was trying to untie a knot in his roller skate's shoelaces. Several men in dark suits and sunglasses sat at the table, and directly behind him stood two imposing figures in white coats with identical silver-gray dreadlocks. Their faces betrayed no emotion, but one of them took his hands out of his pockets as Neo and Trinity approached.

"I hope we're not interrupting anything," Trinity said caustically.

The Merovingian started momentarily, then slowly and deliberately set his foot down on the floor, with the knot still in the laces. "Well, well, well," he said smoothly, "look at what the cat dragged in. You both have some nerve, considering what happened the last time you were here." One of the twins smiled grimly.

"I guess we're just not as smart as you," Trinity quipped.

"No, you are not," the Merovingian smirked, "but that is quite another matter. Let us skip the preliminaries, hm? Why are you here? What crime do you accuse me of now?"

"The Oracle told us – " Neo began to answer.

"What are you talking about?" The Merovingian pulled savagely at his roller skate, finally undoing the knot. "If you want to listen to fairy tales on your own time, that is your business, boy. But don't come in here bothering me about them." A couple of the men in dark suits turned in their seats and sniggered.

"I don't know what exactly you're playing at here," Trinity said ominously, "but you're not going to get away with it."

The Exile leader rose deliberately from his seat, straightening his jacket. "You are just lucky," he snapped, "that this is a special occasion. Yes, lucky. But I'm not about to let you spoil the party for my guests." He gestured expansively at the dance floor, the mirror ball, and the lively disco beat.

Silence fell over the table again. The Merovingian sat down, and the one twin put his hands back in his pockets. "So . . . what now?" Neo asked, as much of himself as anyone else.

"What indeed?" the Merovingian replied facetiously.

"Are we just going to stand here all night?" Trinity demanded.

"Perhaps if you – oh, wait. It's time for the countdown!" He clapped his hands excitedly, and most of the people on the upper floor, including several of the men in dark suits, pulled noisemakers out of their pockets. Neo raised an eyebrow quizzically. The entire club came to a halt and the lights came down to the bare minimum for visibility.

"Ten!" announced the band leader.

"Nine!" exclaimed the Merovingian.

"Eight!" Fred cheered.

"Seven!" Daphne clapped her hands.

"Six!" Velma shouted.

"Five!" Scooby wagged.

"Four!" Shaggy brandished the end of the last loaf of garlic bread.

"Three," one of the twins said impassively.

"Two?" Trinity sounded genuinely confused.

"ONE!" A gigantic roar rose from the dance floor as a banner fluttered down from the rafters, proclaiming "Happy New Year!" in gigantic letters.

The band struck the first notes of _Auld Lang Syne,_ the men in dark suits blew their noisemakers, and at precisely midnight, every light in Club Hel went out.


	3. Chapter 3: Pitch Black

Darkness fell and chaos ruled. People were running and jostling everywhere, oblivious to the band's pleas for calm – considerably harder to hear without the microphone. Fred tried to hold very still and not be trampled, but in spite of it several people hit him in the back, knocking him against the table.

"Yikes!" Shaggy flailed.

"What's going on?" Mary Sue demanded.

"My glasses!" Velma wailed.

After a seemingly endless moment, the power came back on, and another passed before people started calming down again. The gang was slightly frayed but none the worse for wear. Shaggy and Velma started looking for her glasses on the floor as Mary Sue hurried back from where the roiling crowd had deposited her several tables over.

"Are you guys all right?" she asked.

"Like, what happened?" Shaggy said.

"I don't know," Fred said slowly. "It seems like too much of a coincidence that the power went off at exactly midnight."

"And only for a minute," Daphne commented.

Some semblance of calm was beginning to return to the club. Nearby, the waiters joined forces with a couple of patrons to right a couple of tables that had been overturned. Mr. Wilson approached through the crowd. "Is everyone all right?" he asked.

"Yes," Fred replied, "we're all fine here, Mr. Wilson."

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry! There must have been a power surge, or something . . . I can't imagine what could have happened. I just hope this hasn't ruined your evening."

"Like, at least there wasn't anything scary in the dark this time!" Shaggy quipped.

Velma put her glasses on – and started. "Don't be so sure!"

Fred and Mary Sue spun around. A tall, pale man with dreadlocks and round-framed sunglasses stood directly behind them. They scuttled away in fear, and Mary Sue dropped her purse at the pale man's feet. He took his hands out of his white overcoat and snatched it off the floor. Reaching in, his hand emerged with the key to her parents' nightclub, scattering her wallet's contents on the floor.

Shaggy dived under the table, Scooby dived under the tablecloth, and everyone screamed and huddled together instinctively. The pale man, oblivious to their reaction, stepped into the shadows next to the stage, shimmered, and then was gone.

"He – he looked like a ghost!" Daphne's voice shook along with the rest of her.

"Any idea what that was?" said Velma.

Mr. Wilson sighed heavily. "I'm afraid I do, but I wish I didn't."

"You recognized him?"

"Only by reputation." When Daphne glanced down to where he still had his arm around her waist, he stepped back hurriedly and straightened his jacket. "When I first bought Club Hel many years ago, the previous owners told me a legend about this place."

Shaggy was still under the table. "Was it about scary dreadlock ghosts?"

"Not exactly." The Frenchman sighed again. "They say that many, many years ago, there was a cruel, violent Pawnee warrior chief, who everyone recognized by his long, braided hair. He terrorized the settlers in this area until the cavalry finally hunted him down. The soldiers buried him where he fell." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "As a matter of fact, that was over on the corner of 43rd Street and Jefferson."

"But," Mary Sue stammered, "but that's where my parents' club is!"

"Really." He glanced at her before his eyes met Fred's ominously. "That was on December 31st, 1875."

"Jinkies! One hundred years ago tonight!"

"But what did he want with my key?" asked Mary Sue.

"I've heard," Mr. Wilson replied, "that the shamans of his tribe predicted that he would return one day, and drive the American settlers from his land once and for all."

"I just remembered," Shaggy gulped, "I have an appointment. In Albuquerque."

"Hold on, Poulet Petit," Velma interrupted.

Fred put his chair back on its legs. "Mr. Wilson, where does that door near to the stage lead?"

"The back rooms," he replied. "There's nothing there but storage rooms, and you can get to the kitchen and the offices through the halls . . . if you kids would like to look around, I would very much appreciate your help. But if you'll excuse me, I must try and put the place in some sort of order again."

"Thanks, Mr. Wilson." Fred knocked on the tabletop. "Shag, Scoob? Come on! We've got a mystery to solve!"

"Uh oh . . ." Scooby's tail drooped.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Shaggy announced, but he followed along anyway as they filed through the door.

No-one was expecting what was on the other side. It was a hallway, with an oddly high ceiling and what looked like stone walls, with stained-glass windows that didn't appear to open on anything at all. It most certainly did not look like the back rooms of a nightclub.

"Wow," said Daphne.

When the lights went out, everyone was on more or less equal footing – except for Neo, whose code vision was not affected by the lack of light. As such, he saw very clearly the two suit-wearing men nearest him and Trinity leaping up from their seats. One reached for a gun in his jacket; the other brandished a fork. It was a simple matter to deliver a crushing blow to the gunman's chest with the heel of his hand and take him out of the fight. Neo lashed out at the man with the fork, catching him across the face. As he reeled, Neo planted his right foot and spun into a roundhouse kick that hammered into the man's head and swept him to the floor.

The lights came on abruptly to reveal the patrons milling about chaotically, the club on the verge of panic. Another exile moved up behind them, but Trinity, gratefully taking advantage of renewed visibility, stepped in and landed a vicious kick to his knee. He crumpled in pain, and she kicked him in the stomach, sending him skidding across the floor and knocking another minion flat on his face as he rushed to reinforce the others.

Yet another man leapt up from his seat, hurling himself bodily at Neo. He ducked and, as the man sailed overhead, grabbed him by belt and lapels and hurled him at the wall. The exile twisted in the air to get his feet pointing at the wall, and when they made contact he broke into a downward run. Just as he reached the floor, Neo seized a plate from the vacant table and hurled it like a Frisbee. The man looked up a fraction of a second too late, and the plate caught him in the neck, scattering decorative cauliflower.

Downstairs, the club staff could be faintly heard appealing for calm. Trinity glanced over the railing; some of the patrons had fled, but others were still around, mostly looking eager to get back to the party. "What the hell was that about?"

"I don't know," Neo replied, "but the Merovingian is gone." He gestured at the now-empty seat at the place of honor at the table.

"So are the twins." Trinity looked around, but they could have been anywhere.

"Damn it." Neo leaned over the edge, scanning the milling crowd. "I can't believe I didn't see them leave!"

"We'd better get down there and find out what's going on." They pushed their way to the stairs and hurried back to the dance floor. There was no sign of the Merovingian here either, but the waiters and a few more exile minions were putting tables back on their legs and sweeping up broken plates and spilled food. Amazingly, many of the guests were still trying to make a party of it, dancing in spite of the lack of music, and a few were rolling the fallen mirror ball around for some reason.

Neo and Trinity had no idea what was going on, but neither of them wanted to admit it. He was just about to suggest they head for an alcove and call Morpheus when he saw the door next to the stage swinging ajar. "Over there!" he said, and they hurried over, reaching the door just as it closed. He grabbed the handle, turned it, felt something catch, turned it again, and then got it open.

They found themselves in the same cathedral-style hallways they had seen the last time they were here – but where exactly in the twisted maze of code under Club Hel, they had no idea. No-one else was in sight.

"Left or right?" asked Trinity.


	4. Chapter 4: Lost

"Y'know what really bothers me about that ghost?" Velma asked absently.

"The fact that he was a big, creepy, colorless ghost?" Shaggy replied.

"No, no. If he was really a Pawnee chieftain, why was he wearing a trench coat?"

"And sunglasses," Fred added. "I read a lot of books for history class, but none of them ever mentioned anything about sunglasses on Indians."

"Maybe he's just fashion-conscious," Daphne offered helpfully.

They turned a corner into another hallway that looked much like the previous one, and the one before that. Fred's watch was showing a little over twenty minutes to two o'clock, and they were no closer to anything resembling a storeroom, an office, or a kitchen. He was just about to suggest that there was more to these back rooms than Mr. Wilson had admitted when a pair of large double doors at the end of the hall flew open and a man and woman in nearly-matching black overcoats and sunglasses burst in. Without warning, they pulled nasty-looking pistols from inside pockets and levelled them at the gang. Shaggy dived behind Velma, Scooby dived behind him, and everyone came to a complete stop.

"Hold it!" the woman said harshly.

"Like, it's more ghosts! Run for it!"

"Ghosts?" The man in the sunglasses sounded genuinely confused.

"That's why we're back here!" Fred exclaimed. "Mr. Wilson told us we could investigate. If you don't mind my asking, why are _you_ here?"

The pair of them exchanged a quick glance before replying. "We're investigating too," the woman said.

"Oh, that's great!" Velma said. "Maybe we can investigate together!"

They glanced at each other quickly again. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea . . ."

"Wait!" The man in the sunglasses put his gun back in his pocket, placed a hand on his companion's shoulder, and turned her around into a huddle. Most of what they said was inaudible, but Fred caught something like "Not safe back here." At length they turned back again.

"I suppose it couldn't do any harm. You kids shouldn't be wandering around back here by yourselves, anyway."

"Great!" said Daphne. "It's nice to meet a random stranger who actually wants to help us."

Fred introduced the other members of the gang. "My name," said the man in sunglasses, "is – Tom. Tom Anderson."

His companion added, "And I'm Carrie Moss."

"Are you, like," Shaggy asked, "detectives too?"

"Detectives?" Trinity raised an eyebrow. "Something like that. Yes."

"Now that that's out of the way," Fred continued, "I think we'd better split up and look for clues. I suggest Tom comes with me and Daphne, and we'll look down that hall," and he pointed to the left at the double doors, "and the rest of you can check out that branch."

"Sounds good," said Neo. He brushed past his companion, whispering too quietly for anyone else to hear: "Carrie Moss?"

"Not now, Neo," she hissed. "Shaggy, Velma – stay close." And they marched away down the hall, Trinity's boots clicking briskly on the floor.

Fred, Daphne, and Neo turned left and walked slowly down the hall. The decorations were even more ornate and exotic this way, the walls veritably dripping with tapestries and European heraldry.

"I like your coat," Daphne said suddenly.

"Hm?" Neo had stopped to read from a plaque on the wall, and peeked at her sidelong from behind his sunglasses.

"I said, I like your coat," she repeated. "Where did you get it?"

"Er . . ." He stood up straight and brushed at one of his lapels. "Actually, someone made it for me. My, er, brother – he's a tailor."

"Oh." Daphne sounded moderately disappointed, but asked after only a moment, "What did that plaque say?"

"_Chevalier Mal Fet._ It's been years since French class . . ."

"'The Ill-Made Knight,'" Fred translated. "I think. If Velma were here she'd know for sure."

"It's not a medieval thing, though," Daphne pointed out. "Actually, it kind of looks like a street map."

"You know, you're right!" Fred exclaimed. "There's Club Hel, colored in red! And Mary Sue's club."

"Yeah," Neo added. "And that's Le Vrai, Mr. Wilson's restaurant, and the old Mercury Theater is marked too." He paused, with an odd expression on his face. "The writing is on the wall."

"What?" Daphne asked.

"I think that's from a song by Simon and Garfunkel," said Fred.

Neo replied, "Just something someone told me once."

"About the song?"

"Not exactly – wait. Did you hear that?" He spun around and stared down the hall.

"It's coming from that door at the end of the hallway!" exclaimed Fred. "Let's check it out!"

They hurried to the end of the hall and opened the door. The room beyond was silent and still by the time they got there – which was secondary to the fact that they were somehow back in the coat check room.

"This is impossible!" Fred gasped.

"I'm _sure_ we weren't going this way!" Daphne wailed.

"Club Hel's back rooms are a maze," Neo said grimly. "We could very easily have been going this way."

The door they had burst through was in the side, almost halfway between the elevator and the counter. They walked cautiously into the middle of the room, peering uneasily between the pillars. Daphne glanced back over her shoulder and was rather surprised to see that the door they had just emerged from was labelled "Janitor."

"At least there's no-one else in here," Neo said.

"Don't be so sure!" Daphne pointed at the men with shotguns walking towards them on the . . . ceiling?

Her companions looked up slowly, eventually meeting the bouncers' guarded, sunglass-veiled gazes.

"Golly," said Fred.


	5. Chapter 5: Found

Trinity kicked the door open and swept in, pistol in hand. She swiveled quickly from left to right, scanning the room for signs of life. There were none, so she motioned to Shaggy, Velma, and Scooby to come in. They entered, Velma less reluctantly than the other two.

"Like, what a mess," Shaggy quipped.

"This place looks like an office," Velma said, picking up a bundle of papers from the desk.

Trinity opened the desk's top drawer to see a large black date book, its cover stuffed with notes and other pieces of paper. "I think it's the – it's Mr. Wilson's office."

Scooby's tail drooped. "Are you sure we should be searching Mr. Wilson's office?" Shaggy asked uneasily.

"Easy, you two. It's not like he's going to find out." Velma opened a notebook that claimed to be Club Hel's accounting records and a folded piece of paper fell on her shoe.

"Is it a clue?"

"Let's see . . . it's in French."

"No surprises there," Trinity said. "Any idea what it says?"

"It's a letter," Velma said, "addressed to Mr. Wilson . . . someone named Miller is selling something. I think – "

"Look out!" Shaggy interrupted. "It's the creepy Indian with the sunglasses!"

Trinity looked up and saw one of the twins standing at the door. Cursing under her breath, she pointed her gun at him, vaguely aware of Scooby diving for cover in a blur of paper and tail. The twin smiled grimly and pulled the door closed with a brief touch, stepping behind it as he did. Trinity fired three shots, but they only hit the inside of the door as it closed with a loud click.

"Dammit!" She lunged forward and grabbed the handle, and twisted and pulled as hard as she could. "Son of a – I think he locked us in!"

"Oh, no!" Shaggy wailed. "We're goners now!"

"Don't panic, Shaggy," Velma chided. "We got in, so we can get out."

"I hope you're right," Trinity said quietly. "Velma, hang on to that document. Actually . . ." She strode over to the desk and grabbed the datebook from the top drawer. "Let's take this."

"Do you think this is a clue too, Carrie?"

"Most likely. Help me look for another way out. We're getting out of here even if we have to crawl through the air vent."

"On second thoughts," Shaggy replied, "I changed my mind. Maybe we should just wait here. Like, that big white couch looks comfortable."

"Okay!" Velma nodded. "You two stay here and wait for the ghost to come back."

"Tell him I said hi," Trinity added caustically.

Shaggy leapt to his feet and started tapping on the walls. Trinity stood on a footstool to look at the top of the bookshelf, then stepped down and stopped short. She wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't seen it.

"Scooby – are you in the file cabinet?"

Back in the coat check room, Neo took in the men on the ceiling and their shotguns with a quick glance. "Cover!" he shouted.

He was vaguely aware of Fred and Daphne diving behind nearby columns as the two exiles opened fire. Neo threw himself to one side, spinning head over heels, able to watch the shells fly past his legs and gouge massive holes in the floor. As one of the men leapt down to the floor, he dodged around a column and approached him from the side. A swift kick knocked the exile's gun to the floor. The man took a backhanded swipe at Neo which he ducked easily, before grabbing him by the wrist, twisting his arm outwards and backwards, and landing two bone-crushing punches to the ribs. As the man doubled over, Neo wrenched on his arm, threw him into a forward flip, and brought his immaculately-shined size 11 loafer down on the prone man's neck.

He looked to his left instinctively, just as the second man ran past above him, weapon raised. Neo ducked behind the column as the sound of the shotgun blast echoed through the room. He peered out from the other side and saw the exile running down the wall – right next to Daphne. She turned to flee, but the man grabbed her by the upper arm. Neo charged across the floor, took a hold of his collar, and flung him against the wall with enough force to crack the plaster. The exile dropped to the floor a split second before Neo's fist slammed into the space where his head had been. A cloud of dust rose and chunks of concrete showered as Neo's knuckles hammered a massive hole in the wall.

His shotgun forgotten, the minion rolled, leapt upright, and cartwheeled away. Fred emerged from behind a nearby column as he landed. The man twisted to avoid him, lost his footing, and soared majestically for just a moment before his head slammed into the floor and he stopped moving.

"My heroes," Daphne said. She tiptoed nervously towards the guard's corpse. "Are these guys Indian ghosts too?"

"I don't think so," Neo replied. "They're dressed more like club security."

"Look at this!" Fred exclaimed. "This guard has a whole lot of keys on his belt."

"He must be the janitor," said Daphne.

"Keys? Is that a problem?"

"Not really," Fred replied, "except that some of these," he slipped the key ring off of the dead man's belt, "are clearly for different kinds of locks than the doors here. This one even says '1135 Industry Way' on it."

"He's got," Neo pondered, "a bunch of keys that aren't his."

"And the ghost," Daphne added, "grabbed Mary Sue's key."

"Clue," all three of them said in unison.

They marched to the large double doors next to the coat check counter. As he held the door open, Neo asked, "I don't know if this is a bad time, but would you mind if I asked you something about your van you mentioned?"

"Sure, Tom. You see, my aunt used to work at a used car dealer – "

"You guys, look!" Daphne interrupted. "The ghost is up on the top floor!"

"Get down!" Neo snapped. He pulled his gun out of his coat and scouted ahead. Sure enough, one of the twins was standing at the top of the stairs, talking intently with . . .

"It's Mr. Wilson!" Fred exclaimed. "This whole mystery is starting to make sense."

"Let's find the others." They tiptoed towards the door to the back rooms, through the increasingly unsteady revellers on the dance floor. Fred turned the knob and pulled the door open.


	6. Chapter 6: Running

"Maybe I can shoot the lock off." Trinity aimed her pistol idly at the door handle.

"No! Don't!" Velma protested. "See, Carrie? There's a wire running through the inside of the lock. I think it's a pressure sensor."

"And knowing our friend Mr. Wilson, the other end is connected to four pounds of plastic explosive in the door frame. Wonderful."

"Explosive?!" Scooby retreated deeper into the file cabinet.

"Like, don't shoot, Carrie!" Shaggy shouted.

Trinity sighed and thumped the door with the heel of her hand. "There has to be a way out of here. This stupid place is nothing but secret passages. This can't be the only room without one!"

"Oh, it's hopeless!" Shaggy wailed. "We'll never get out of here!" And he sat down in the huge leather chair at the desk, throwing his weight down hard. The back of the chair fell into a nearly-horizontal position and a mechanical sound filled the air. As it did, the bookshelf opened like an elevator door, revealing a dimly-lit passage beyond.

"Shaggy! You did it!" Trinity pulled him to his feet. "Hang on!" she interjected as the teens made to enter the passage. Gun in hand, she peered down the hall, first one direction, then the other. "All right. Stay close together, everyone."

"Is it really so dangerous in here, Carrie?" Velma asked curiously.

"It's even worse than that." She was transfixed by something that appeared to be a hand-painted portrait of the Merovingian on the wall. It was hard to tell, since it looked like the artist had used his sleeve instead of a brush. "The writing is on the wall . . ."

"Say what?"

"Never mind. Let's go this way."

"Is that, like, the way back to the club?"

"Maybe. Wait, did you hear something?"

"No," said Scooby.

"No," said Velma.

"No," said Shaggy.

"Yes," said one of the twins.

He was approaching them from behind, three exile minions in tow, white overcoat billowing behind him. The twin was not visibly armed, but two of the exiles were carrying shotguns. He smiled like an escaped mental patient.

"Zoinks! It's ol' creepy! And he brought friends!" The twin broke into a jog.

"Run!" Shaggy and Scooby needed no encouragement, and they took off down the hall. Velma hesitated for a moment as Trinity backed away from the exiles, raising her gun.

"Carrie, are you coming? What are – "

"Velma, _RUN!"_ The girl in the orange sweater turned and ran as Trinity opened fire. The twin ducked to his left side, his right arm shimmering and becoming translucent. Two bullets passed through his shoulder, catching one of the shotgun-wielding minions in the throat.

Further down the hall, Shaggy and Scooby heard the sound of gunfire and ducked instinctively into a doorway. Velma tore around the corner as though all the ghosts of all the Indians were chasing her.

"Velma! What's going on! Where's Carrie?"

"She went in one of the other doors. I think she lost him. Hey . . . where are we?"

Judging by the utensils scattered all over the tables, the large silver refrigerators, and the stove in the corner, they were in the kitchen.

"We're in the kitchen!" Scooby licked his lips excitedly.

"About time!" Shaggy exclaimed. "I haven't eaten since 1975." He pulled open the refrigerator, choosing a juicy-looking steak and setting it on the counter.

"You two and your appetite," Velma laughed. "Carrie told me to find her in the VIP dining room. I think it's through there." She exited through a door at the far end of the kitchen while they fired up the stove and Scooby rifled through a cabinet of salad dressing bottles.

"We've got everything to make my Aunt Sophia's world-famous steak sauce!" Shaggy announced. "Tartar sauce, mayonnaise, and – the best part of all – cream cheese."

Someone pushed the door open, and Shaggy jumped so high he almost reached the ceiling before realizing it wasn't the ghost again. Instead, he found himself looking at a woman in a brightly-colored peasant-style dress and a red bandana.

"Hello there," she greeted him, her voice low and smoky and slightly French-accented. "What are you doing?"

Shaggy smiled nervously. "We're making steak. Would you like some?"

She leaned over to examine their setup, and her long black hair shimmered in the dim fluorescent light. "Hmm. I like steak. You are making your own sauce, too?"

"Yes, ma'am! It's my aunt's patented recipe, and . . ."

The Frenchwoman was standing close enough for him to smell her perfume. She reached around and took a gentle hold of his elbow in one smooth hand and the bowl in the other. "It looks delicious. But you should stir it a little slower. Like this."

"Like . . . this?" Shaggy gulped.

"Yes. You see, if you use a long, circular motion, so you scrape it off the sides of the bowl – keep moving smoothly, now! – it . . ." She leaned in and whispered the last words, her breath hot on his ear. ". . . seals the flavor in."

"You guys, I found Carrie!" Velma burst through the door at the far end of the kitchen, Trinity close behind. "You should have been there! She did a flip off the wall and kicked this guy right in the – what are you doing?"

They stopped short, taking in the nervous-looking Shaggy and the woman's long flowing hair and long flowing arms. "Jinkies! Get a room, you two!"

"Velma! I was – look out! It's the ghost!" The pale man in sunglasses was indeed standing right behind her, leaning forward to eye Scooby's salad.

Scooby abandoned his salad tongs and made a dash for the door, Velma and Trinity close behind. Shaggy followed, nearly dragging his new friend off her feet. The twin vaulted over the table close behind them.

"Hey!" the Frenchwoman shouted. "We were making steak sauce!"

"Come on, kids!" Trinity ordered. Shaggy and Scooby led the way as they tore down the hall, scattering tapestries and broken shards that had once been expensive vases in their wake. The twin barely noticed, either jumping over obstacles or turning insubstantial as they neared him.

"We can't lose him!" Shaggy exclaimed. "It's hopeless!"

"You can make it, Shaggy," Trinity exhorted. "Free your mind!"

"The door!" Velma pointed ahead. "I think that's where we came in!"

"Gangway!" Scooby flung himself at the door, front paws extended like a battering ram. Just a moment before he reached it, the door opened. Shaggy tried to stop, failed, tripped, and was vaguely aware of Scooby knocking Fred and Daphne to the floor.

"What are you guys doing?" Fred asked unsteadily.

"Anybody get that truck's license plate?" Neo said, helping them to their feet.

"Watch out! The Indian ghost's right behind us!" Velma pointed back down the hall, where the twin was dodging Trinity's bullets.

"But . . . he's on the top floor! We saw him!" Daphne pointed over Neo's shoulder, where the other twin and the Merovingian were descending the stairs. Scooby dived for cover under the stage as two hostile pairs of eyes swept over the little group.


	7. Chapter 7: The Answer

"I think it's about time to put this mystery to bed," said Fred.

"What are we gonna do with the ghosts?" asked Shaggy.

Neo put his gun away, eyeing the twin and the Merovingian as the twin and the Merovingian eyed them. "Leave this one to me." He cracked his knuckles.

"Careful, Tom!" Daphne exclaimed. "He looks nasty!"

An impromptu ring of spectators formed as Neo and the twin moved forward slowly. The pale exile shook his head, dreadlocks cascading around him. They circled each other, sunglass-veiled gazes locked. For a moment they froze, separated by little more than an arm's length.

Then the twin attacked.

The gang watched, enraptured, as Neo dodged and weaved, unbelievably fast. Some of the twin's attacks missed him by less than an inch, while for others Neo was already far to one side by the time the motion was finished; either way, the dreadlocked man hit nothing but air.

After leaning back to avoid a punch aimed at his chin, Neo shifted his weight and counterattacked. He hit the twin in the solar plexus with the edge of his hand, knocking him back a step; he followed with two straight punches which the twin blocked, before landing another glancing blow to the twin's side. Neo spun and threw a roundhouse kick at his opponent, but the twin's upper body became insubstantial and his shoe passed through the mist just above the twin's heart. The exile threw himself into a back flip, trying to stay out of Neo's longer reach; the man in black moved in again, leading with a short kick aimed at the twin's stomach.

The man in white leapt aside and jabbed at Neo's face. The taller man planted his feet and grabbed a hold of the twin's arm. For a moment it seemed he now had the advantage, but in a flash a knife appeared in the exile's other hand which plunged towards Neo's stomach.

The spectators held their breath.

The Merovingian smiled in triumph.

Daphne gasped in shock.

Neo, however, surged straight into the air, arms straining as he pulled himself forward and over the twin's head, landing lightly behind the man in the white coat. Before the exile could recover, Neo hit his legs with a sweeping kick that knocked him off his feet. A split second later, he kicked the twin again, sending him across the room in a low, flat arc. Some of the partygoers dodged him, but he pulled some of the slower ones off their feet and into a pile on the floor.

"Whoa!" Scooby rubbed at his eyes with his tail.

"You got the Indian ghost, Tom!" Fred exclaimed.

"That was amazing!" Daphne marvelled.

"Wait!" Velma cautioned. "Where's the other one?"

"Right here," Trinity emerged from the hall. "I got some unexpected help." And she stepped aside just as her mysterious helper shoved the other twin to the floor.

Persephone planted her feet, hands on her hips, the floral pattern of her hippie dress fluorescing in the half-light. "Will someone tell me," she demanded, "what is going on here?"

"Gladly, ma'am," Velma answered confidently. "I think we have everything we need to wrap this mystery up."

The spectators who had watched Neo's showdown with the twin began to disperse, leaving the gang standing alone in the middle of the dance floor. Mary Sue hurried up to them as the twins staggered uneasily to their feet. The Merovingian's expression was sullen, his hands jammed into the pockets of his jacket.

"The biggest clue," said Velma, "came from this datebook and letter I found in Mr. Wilson's office."

"That is my private correspondence!" the Merovingian raged. "You have no right to read it, girl!"

"Shut up," Persephone snapped. "Please continue, dear."

"I noticed," the teen continued, "that Mr. Wilson wrote in all these meetings with someone named Heather North." Persephone raised an eyebrow. "Once I translated this letter I found in the front cover, I found out that's the name of a real estate agent."

"Yes, she is a real estate agent. Is it a crime to talk to real estate agents?"

"Right," Persephone muttered, "'talk.'"

"I remember that name," Mary Sue chimed in. "She works for Mega Realty. I first met her when I was a little girl and my father bought the nightclub."

"Right," Fred said. "According to another of the letters, she's been helping Mr. Wilson find cheap deals on prime real estate here, downtown."

"He owns about six whole blocks. He's making a fortune from people paying rent," Daphne added.

"Mr. Wilson decided he wasn't going to wait any more for people to sell," Velma continued. "He's been taking over abandoned and derelict properties by having his employees steal or counterfeit keys," Fred shook the guard's key ring, jingling the heavy mass of metal, "and having Mega Realty fake up the documentation. Once he learned from Ms. North that Mary Sue's parents were leaving, he saw a chance to get her property, too."

"He had his two employees here pretend to be Indian ghosts and steal her keys," Fred explained. "Mr. Wilson figured that once Mary Sue thought she was being targeted by the Indian ghosts for retribution, she would be too frightened to keep her club open."

"And then he could, like, buy the property for practically nothing," Shaggy finished.

"Of course," Trinity deadpanned. "It's all so simple."

The Merovingian whipped his hands out of his pockets. "I would have gotten away with it, too," he snarled, "if it weren't for you meddling kids."

"It's over, _darling,_"Persephone said caustically. "I suggest you return this girl's key, and call off your little masquerade here. You and I need to have a long, boring talk about everything you've been doing with your 'real estate agent.'"

He glared venomously at all of them, but fished Mary Sue's key out of his pocket and tossed it at her. Persephone took him by the upper arm and practically dragged him towards the back rooms.

"As for you," she purred in Shaggy's direction, "you really must show me the secret of your aunt's steak sauce, sometime." Then they were gone.

"Like, what a night," Shaggy sighed.

"What a morning, you mean!" Fred exclaimed. "It's almost four o'clock!"

"So tired!" Scooby exclaimed. Mary Sue nodded and yawned.

"I think we can fix that," Velma smiled. "Who's up for a meatball hero?" The Great Dane perked up immediately.

"Meatball heroes?" Trinity mused. "For breakfast?"

"If you've never had meatball heroes for breakfast," Shaggy laughed, "then you've never had breakfast!"

Neo glanced at the earnest faces of the four teens, Trinity's serious and confused expression, and the twins still trying to slink away, and realized he was grinning. "I'm buying."


	8. Epilogue: True Paradise

Several feet of bread later, the gang filed out of the sandwich shop, leaving Neo and Daphne waiting on line to pay. He wondered whether Tank had remembered to program him up a wallet, almost panicked, and sighed with relief when he found it in one of his overcoat's inside pockets.

"Hey, Tom?" Daphne tapped him on the shoulder. "I wanted to tell you, I thought it was really brave what you did back there."

Neo shook his head. "It was nothing – "

"Hardly!" the redhead smiled. "We couldn't have caught those ghosts without you. You and your hands of lightning." She mimed a couple of martial arts moves.

"Oh," he said. "I'm flattered. And, I enjoyed working with you guys too." Daphne's smile broadened. "It was a nice change to have people around we could actually trust."

"It was pretty different for us, too," she replied. "We don't get much help either. Of course, we usually don't get shot at so much, either."

"Sorry about that," Neo smiled nervously. "Hope it didn't ruin your New Year's."

"Oh, don't worry. It was still just about the best New Year _I_ ever had!"

"Oh, good." Neo handed a fifty-dollar bill to the cashier. "It's too bad you guys have to be going so soon."

"Yeah." The teen offered a mock pout. "But my Uncle Matt's expecting us at his ranch. I haven't been in years! We'll probably pass this way again, though."

"If you do," said Neo, "we're usually somewhere around Mega City. We might run into you again."

"I hope so." Daphne patted him on the arm as they walked towards the door. "Best of luck, Tom. I hope you've solved a whole bunch of mysteries by next time!"

"You too." Neo paused just before they reached the door. "Daphne, wait a minute." He pulled the gun out of his overcoat and tucked it into his pants. Then he slipped the coat off and draped it over her shoulders in one smooth movement.

"But, Tom – "

"You said you liked it," Neo interrupted. "I can get another one."

Daphne's face brightened, and she slipped her arms into the overcoat's sleeves, turning slightly to admire her reflection in the window. "Just one more thing." Neo removed his sunglasses and gently slipped them onto the redhead's face. "Perfect!"

"Thank you so much, Tom," she said quietly. "Now I'll really never forget today." He held the door open for her, and they walked out towards the rest of the group.

"So I figure," Shaggy was concluding, "being able to think about infinity makes you, like, infinite yourself."

Trinity nodded sagely. "That's pretty deep," she admitted. "I think you kids could have handled the truth." She glanced over at the Mystery Machine's open side panel, where Scooby was chasing his own tail. "Well, most of you."

"Good-bye, Tom and Carrie!" Fred exclaimed, climbing into the driver's seat. "Thanks for all your help!"

"See you soon," Velma said, "I hope!"

"I'll take good care of your coat!" Daphne called.

"Stay groovy!" Shaggy suggested.

"Scooby-dooby-doo!" was the last thing the large dog contributed, leaning out the window to wave with all four of his limbs.

A brisk wind was blowing, but Neo stood next to Trinity in his short sleeves, and they waved until the van was lost in the distance. "What happened to your coat?" she said.

"Oh," Neo said quietly, "some whole crazy thing. What a bunch, huh?" Trinity half-smiled and shook her head. "Morpheus once told me," Neo continued solemnly, "that most of the people in here weren't ready to be unplugged. But not only would these kids not want to be unplugged, they don't need it either. They have everything they need right here."

"I guess Shaggy was right," Trinity concluded, "when he said the only true paradise is the one within."

And they walked away arm in arm, blending into the endless bustle of the Mega City, on their way back to a place where there was no Mystery Machine or Scooby Snacks, and life was a constant adventure of a very different kind.


End file.
